The Prince and the Warrior
by thisflyingmachine
Summary: A warrior and a prince stand in the blue winter night. The warrior tells a myth that ties three generations together. The prince listens. They both believe.
1. Part One: The Prince and the Warrior

**:: the prince and the warrior ::**

**by thisflyingmachine**

[part one: the prince and the warrior.]

"Do you know what they're celebrating?" the warrior asked. Beneath the bridge, small paper boats bearing candles drifted along the canal.

"Moon Festival," the young prince replied. "They're celebrating some princess."

"Not just _some princess_," the warrior said. "The single most important princess in the history of the Northern Water Tribe—in the history of the _world_, even!"

The prince raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The warrior sighed. He was taller than the prince, and older by several years, but he tolerated the younger boy—for his status, if nothing else. Besides, the warrior's father specifically instructed him to be kind to the young prince during his visit. "Surely someone told you the story," the warrior said. "Your grandfather, maybe?"

The prince shakes his head mutely.

"All right then. I guess I have to tell you, then." Sighing, the warrior began his story.


	2. Part Two: The Warrior and the Princess

**:: the prince and the warrior ::**

**by thisflyingmachine**

[part two: the warrior and the princess.]

"Once, years ago, there was a young warrior of the Southern Water Tribe. He was charged with a great task: to help a very important boy fulfill a prophecy."

"What was the prophecy?"

"The boy and his friends were supposed to end a terrible war and save the world."

"And did they?"

"Well, we're standing here today, in a time of peace, aren't we?"

"We are. Okay. Go on."

"All right. Their journey brought them to the Northern Water Tribe. It was there that the warrior met the princess. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, and the warrior fell in love with her instantly."

"How could she _possibly_ be the most beautiful girl in the world?"

"You don't understand. You haven't seen her."

"Neither have you!"

"But my granddad told me all about her when I was a kid, before he died. He said she had the bluest eyes—bluer than the Northern Sea. Her hair was white as moonlight. She looked like a dream. Like a goddess."

"Hmm . . ."

"Well, the warrior fell in love with the beautiful princess. And even though he was clumsy and foolish whenever she was around, the princess saw that he had a strong heart and that he loved her truly, and she came to love him in return. But they couldn't be together, because the princess already had a betrothed."

"Really?"

"Really. The warrior was heartbroken when the princess told him. It was an arranged marriage, and the princess had no choice. Still, she and the warrior continued to meet in secret, hiding their love. This went on for a while—until the Fire Nation attempted to take the Northern Water Tribe."

"Why is it that the Fire Nation is _always_ the villain in these folk stories?"

"Stop interrupting. _Anyway_, the Fire Nation attacked the Northern Water Tribe. It was pretty evenly-matched—warriors and Waterbenders against soldiers and Firebenders. But then a Fire Nation commander found the most sacred place in the North—the Spirit Oasis. The pond in the Spirit Oasis was the home of the Ocean and Moon Spirits. The commander knew that, and he wanted to use that knowledge to destroy the Water Tribe for good, regardless of the consequences. So he killed the Moon Spirit."

"That's impossible. You can't kill a spirit."

"Not in the Spirit World, you can't. But the Ocean and Moon Spirits were inhabiting physical bodies in the mortal world, and could die."

"Oh. All right, then."

"The commander killed the Moon Spirit, and the night went dark. All Waterbenders lost their power. The Fire Nation was going to overrun the Water Tribe. Then, just when all hope was lost, the princess got an idea. You see, when she was a baby, the princess had been very ill, near death. Her parents prayed to the Moon Spirit, asking for help. They brought her to the Spirit Oasis and placed her in the pond. Then the Moon Spirit touched the princess, healing her and turning her hair white."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm getting to it! Relax! Anyway, the princess thought that since she had been given life by the Moon Spirit, it might be possible for her to use that life to revive it."

"But wouldn't she die?"

"There was no way to tell. But she knew she had to try."

"She must've been very brave."

"As brave as she was beautiful."

"So then what happened?"

"She told the warrior her plan. He begged her to change her mind. He'd promised her father, the chief, that he would protect her with his life. And besides—he loved her. He'd never loved anyone but her. He couldn't bear the thought of losing her."

"Could he convince her?"

"No. It didn't matter how he pleaded. The princess loved him more than anything. But her duty to her people was greater than her love. So she said goodbye to the warrior and surrendered her life. And she became the Moon Spirit. With the moon back in the sky, the Waterbenders were able to defeat the Fire Nation invaders. The Moon Spirit now watches over the Water Tribe with special care, and it's said that she also watched over her warrior all the days of his life. And today, with this festival, we celebrate the princess' bravery and her sacrifice."


	3. Part Three: The Prince and the Fire Lord

**:: the prince and the warrior ::**

**by thisflyingmachine**

[part three: the prince and the fire lord.]

When the young prince returned home to his nation, he was greeted by his family. The reunion was brief but happy, and he was soon sent off to see his tutor and catch up on the studies he'd missed during his visit to the North.

But he was saved from several hours in the palace library by a summons from his grandfather.

Happy to be free on such a fine day, the prince abandoned his books and frowning tutor, and hurried to his grandfather's private chambers. The guards stepped aside as he approached, and he entered the chambers. Red and orange afternoon sunlight filtered through the wide windows, illuminating the large room.

His grandfather was seated at a large, ornately carved desk, going over a stack of yellowed scrolls covered in beautiful calligraphy. He looked up as the prince entered, a smile touching his mouth.

When he was a small child, the prince had been frightened by his grandfather—or, rather, by the disfiguring scar on the left side of his face. But it was an irrational fear. His grandfather was a fair, intelligent man, and a good Fire Lord. Now the scar seemed unimportant, and he barely noticed it.

"Ah," his grandfather said, rising easily. He was quite old, but still healthy and spry, and not quite ready to pass on the crown to his eldest son—the prince's father. "You've finally made it back."

"We ran into some rough weather," the prince explained. "Our return was delayed."

"No matter. I simply wanted to ask you about your visit to the North. How was it?"

The prince considered this. "Interesting," he said finally.

"How so?"

"I've never been to the North," said the prince. "I didn't realize it would be so—_cold_. But the snow was beautiful. So was the city. It's amazing what the Waterbenders can build without machines."

His grandfather nodded. "I know the feeling." He paused. "Have I ever told you about my first visit to the Northern Water Tribe?"

"No, grandfather."

"Hmm. Another time, perhaps."

The prince nodded, though he wished that time was now. He loved his grandfather's stories, which were always filled with adventure.

"We arrived in the North in time for the Moon Festival," the prince said conversationally. "They had fireworks."

"Did anyone tell you the story behind that festival? It's always best to hear such a story told by a local."

"Yes," the prince said. "The son of the Southern Chief told me."

At that, the old man smiled, his golden eyes warm, but he didn't explain why.

"Grandfather," the prince said, thinking. "Didn't you know a warrior from the Southern Water Tribe?"

"I did. He was a dear friend of mine."

"Why doesn't he visit the palace?"

"He did, often. But you were very young then, and I doubt you remember. He passed away some years ago."

"What was he like?"

"He was brave and clever. And stubborn," the old Fire Lord added wryly. "But he was a good man."

"You knew many good people, didn't you, grandfather?"

"I still do. I know the world's greatest Earthbender and Waterbender. One lives in Ba Sing Se, and the other in the Southern Tribe. I haven't seen them in a long while," he added thoughtfully. "I ought to go see them."

The prince looked up sharply. "Could I—?"

"Go with?" His grandfather laughed. "I don't see why not. We'll just have to tell your mother it's part of your education."

"And you know the Avatar, as well, don't you, grandfather?"

"Oh, yes. He and I had quite a few adventures in our youth—as well as with that Earthbender and Waterbender and warrior. I suppose I could invite all three of them to the palace . . . Perhaps during the Sun Festival. They're all usually so busy, but—"

"What's it like to know the Avatar?"

"Not so different from knowing anyone. He's lighthearted, the Avatar, and we've been friends most of our lives. We were enemies, first, of course, but—"

"_Enemies_? But, _Grand_father—"

His grandfather raised a hand to silence the prince, then leaned forward. "How old are you now, my boy?"

"Twelve."

"I think that's old enough to hear the story about the Avatar and me. It's a very long story."

"I don't mind."

"All right, then. I warn you, though—I did a great many stupid things when I was young. Try not to think too badly of me when I've finished. All right?"

"I never could," the prince insisted.

"Oh, I'm sure." Smiling gently, the Fire Lord spoke:

"I suppose it really began when I got this scar. Yes, I know you've always wondered about it. I wasn't much older than you at the time. My father—your great-grandfather—was the Fire Lord, as you know, and I was an eager prince. One day, I managed to convince my uncle to bring me a war council meeting. . . ."


End file.
